


Wingwoman

by kay_emm_gee



Series: the kids aren't alright (The 100 tumblr prompts) [29]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Babies, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 10:04:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4259256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_emm_gee/pseuds/kay_emm_gee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: "You crouched down to coo at my baby but I forgot to tell you their favorite thing to do is to play with people’s hair and now they won’t let go of you."</p><p>Summary: Clarke didn't think she'd need a wingwoman at the park playground when she's babysitting her one-year-old niece, but then Bellamy Blake strolls up, and Amelia rises to the occasion, luckily for her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wingwoman

**Author's Note:**

> i am trash for writing this sappy thing. kthanxbyeee.

Of all the places Clarke expected to run into Bellamy, at the playground of the local park was not one of them. At the hospital, sure, because as an officer at the local precinct he was always bringing in an injured perp or an overdose victim, or even himself after a rough arrest, and because she liked taking shifts in the ER (it was for the money, alright? It had nothing to do with getting the chance to see him and his charming smile more often–not at all). 

But here she was, babysitting Amelia–Wells and Maya’s little girl–for the afternoon all the way across town, holding her up by two hands as the cutie took wobbling steps across the grassy area next to the jungle gym and laughing at the happy gurgling noises she was making when Clarke heard her name called in the low, happy voice that never failed to send her into a blushing tailspin.

“Hey, doc,” Bellamy greeted her again, eyes alight and a bounce in his step as he approached. 

“Don’t tell me you’re here on official business,” she teased, nodding at the shrieking children scattered across the playground. “I can’t imagine any of these little guys getting into trouble.”

He laughed, hands slipping into his pockets as he scuffed a few steps closer. “You’d be surprised. Kids have got sticky fingers, and not just ‘cause they’ve got jam or whatever else all over them.” 

“The punk by the monkeys bars did look shifty; he was eyeing Amelia’s goldfish a little too much for my liking,” Clarke whispered mockingly, earning her an eye roll and a poorly concealed smirk before Bellamy’s smile turned genuine, his gaze drifting down to Amelia, who was patiently shifting in place, her little hands still grasping onto Clarke’s for support.

“And who’s this little one? Yours?” Bellamy asked as he squatted down, ducking his head even further to look Amelia in the eye.

“She’s not–,”

Apparently pleased by the attention, Amelia cried out happily, lunging forward too fast for Clarke to catch the girl’s loosening grip. Bellamy was quick though, reaching out to catch her by the waist, but Clarke’s relief waned as she helplessly watched Amelia brace herself on Bellamy’s head, her fingers inevitably scrunching tightly into the thick dark curls. 

She heard Bellamy suck in a breath, because yes, Amelia did have  _quite_  the grip, but then he just chuckled, hoisting the squealing child up as he stood, keeping her high on his side so she could continue pulling (probably painfully) at his hair.

“So she’s one of those huh?” He said, flicking a side glance at the smiling Amelia.

“I’m so sorry,” Clarke exclaimed, reaching for the little troublemaker, but Bellamy shook his head–rather awkwardly, so as not to jostle the baby–and held out a hand for her to wait.

After holding up one finger, mouthing  _watch this_ , he lightly tickled his fingers against Amelia’s side, causing a shrieking giggle to burst from her. She wiggled to get away from his touch, throwing her hands up in celebration at the game. Now free from her clutches, Bellamy smoothly slid her down so she was straddling his hip, her still-greedy fingers now twisting themselves into his dark T-shirt instead as she continued to burble. 

“Teach me your ways,” Clarke said in sincere wonderment.

A loud, rich laugh spilled from Bellamy, which set Amelia off again, and Clarke’s pulse rocketed into double-time, because  _oh god he looks even better like this than in uniform._  

Blushing and hoping her thoughts weren’t plastered across her face, she reached out for Amelia again. This time Bellamy relented, handing the little girl off with some difficulty because she didn’t want to let go.

 _I know the feeling_ , Clarke thought with amused melancholy as Amelia nestled into her side, apparently now satisfied with being back in familiar arms.  _Get a grip,_  she admonished herself silently, eyes widening as she realized Bellamy was staring, clearly waiting for an answer to a question she hadn’t heard.

“You there?” He joked.

“Yeah. Sorry. What?”

“Is she yours?” Bellamy repeated, drumming his fingers against the side of this thigh rapidly.

“Oh. No! No. I’m just playing auntie for the afternoon. Such a chore with this cutie, I know.”

“Must be terrible.” His grin was doing odd, twisty things to her gut, and Clarke did  _not_ like it. She had to focus.

“So,” she drawled, hoping her thoughts would gain coherency sometime soon. “Where did you learn to do that?”

“Younger sister,” Bellamy offered with a shrug. “She was the worst about hair. Even gave me a bald patch one time–that was a fun look to go to first grade with.”

Clarke snorted, picturing a half-bald six-year-old. “I’ll bet. Did she at least apologize when she was older?”

“Nah,” he said, grinning again. “I just spent the next ten or so years braiding her hair, and every time she complained about me tugging on a snarl or doing it too tight, I just told her it was payback.”

This time Clarke was the one who let out a loud belly laugh. “I’m sure she appreciated that.”

“She loves me, I swear,” Bellamy replied, voice brimming with dryness. “Well, she better, considering I’m actually here to drop off her extra set of apartment keys since she lost hers.” At Clarke’s questioning look, he jerked his chin towards the community rec center to the left. “She teaches martial arts classes for the after-school program.”

Nodding in understanding, Clarke shifted Amelia, who whined in protest, apparently already half-asleep in that short time they had been talking. “I’ll let you go, then,” she offered, hoping the disappointment settling low in her stomach also wasn’t present on her face. “Looks like it’s time for me to get this little one back home for a nap.” 

“Bye, Amelia,” Bellamy whispered in a sing-song tune. 

When a sleepy, half-smile drifted onto the baby’s face in response, Bellamy chuckled, his eyes catching Clarke’s in a brief connection of warm humor.

“Bye, Clarke,” Bellamy repeated in the same musical tone, a bit louder and more teasing this time, flashing a bright, enticing grin at her before heading off.

Turning around quickly herself, because a blush was flaming up her cheeks at the glint of flirtatiousness that he had just given off, Clarke huffed under her breath at the sleeping baby in her arms. As she willed herself to calm down, Clarke breathed in a few times, gently brushing her nose against Amelia’s hair, absorbing her sweet baby smell.

“You lucky girl, Amelia,” she sighed after a minute. “You got to touch the hair. You have to tell me all about it, ‘kay?” Clarke murmured nonsensically, stuffing down her embarrassment at talking to a baby about her massively out-of-control crush on Bellamy Blake. 

“If you’re looking for opinions on my hair, you can always ask Octavia too–though I’m not sure she’ll remember it all that well this many years later.”

Clarke choked, nearly losing her grip on Amelia as she spun around to find a very amused Bellamy standing only a little bit behind her, clearly having backtracked and thus overheard her ridiculous comments.

“I–”

“And just for the record,” Bellamy interrupted, his grin smug but his eyes kind. “I’ve been wondering what your hair feels like too.” 

Swallowing thickly, Clarke clutched Amelia tighter, feeling her pulse race and stomach roll and cheeks flame, all the while a giddy feeling building in her chest. “Good to know,” she finally got out.

Amelia wriggled in displeasure, letting out a frustrated whimper that told Clarke she had only a minute or so before a tantrum was on the way.

“I gotta go,” she said reluctantly and with a tinge of panic, willing her sort-of niece to hold it together long enough for Bellamy to finish what she had started.

“I know,” Bellamy said, his expression understanding. “Besides, I also know where you work. Doc.”

“Right,” Clarke said with a nervous laugh.

“You working the ER shift on Monday?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe I’ll see you there.”

“You better not rough up a perp just to have an excuse to see me.”

Bellamy ducked his head, still grinning. “Alright. But I may rough one up just to have an excuse to see you so I can ask you out.”

“You’re a terrible cop. Really. I should call Internal Affairs.”

“Says the girl who sneaks bags of lollipops home from the peds wing.”

“They’re for Amelia?” Clarke tried to plead, but her voice didn’t even approach convincing.

Bellamy knew it too, because his eyes crinkled at the corners in amusement. “She’s not even one year old, Clarke.”

“Gonna put me in cuffs, Blake?”

A sharp flare of heat and intrigue ran through his expression, making Clarke’s own skin warm at his intense reaction. 

“Don’t give me ideas like that, Griffin. There are children around.” 

Clarke pressed her lips together, stifling the shocked giggle rising up in her throat, but before either of them could say another word, Amelia whined loudly and then burst into a wailing cry.

“Alright, alright, sweetie. Let’s get you home,” Clarke murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. 

“Bye, Clarke,” Bellamy said, his voice earnest this time as he waved farewell.

“See you,” she said, shooting him one last soft smile before turning on her heel and practically racing back to the parking lot to get Amelia settled into her car seat.

“I know you’re not very happy with me right now,” Clarke cooed as she buckled Amelia in. “But you, my darling girl, are my favorite niece for ever and ever for playing the perfect wingwoman just now, so take comfort in that. I’m going to buy you the biggest stuffed animal I can find soon, I promise.”

Much to her surprise, Amelia actually quieted a bit at hearing those words, and Clarke frowned at her niece.

“Well-played, niece. You get that from your dad, I suppose. And your mom too,” Clarke mused, only imagining what it would be like when Amelia was older. “Your parents got their work cut out with you, babe.”

Amelia giggled through her tears, causing Clarke to laugh quietly too, because her niece was a smart girl, and they both knew it. 


End file.
